I’m the person everyone calls for a perfect party—weddings, showers, you name it. I’ve planned them all, like my boyfriend’s sister’s wedding, where I juggled bridesmaid duties and vendor calls at midnight. I love creating magic, but not everyone values it. My brother Liam’s fiancée, Sarah, was one of those people. From the start, her smiles hid sharp jabs. “Your parties are so extra,” she’d say, or, “Why make it so fancy?” Her fake compliments, like, “Bold decor choice,” stung, and she never thanked me for hosting family events. Every chat with her left me feeling small, like I’d been praised but slapped. Then Liam proposed, and Sarah’s attitude flipped overnight.
Suddenly, Sarah was my best friend, texting me wedding ideas and tagging me in Instagram posts about maid-of-honor roles. It felt odd, but I thought she wanted to bond as future sisters-in-law. At a coffee date, her real plan slipped out: “Be my maid of honor and plan my wedding. You’re so good at this!” I was stunned. We barely got along, yet she acted like we were close. “Sarah, I’m too busy this year,” I said politely. “I can be a bridesmaid, though.” Her smile tightened. “You planned other weddings,” she snapped. I held firm, explaining my schedule, but her eyes turned icy. After that, her texts stopped, and I assumed she’d moved on. I was wrong.
Weeks later, a hotel coordinator I work with called. “Confirming your wedding for spring,” he said. My heart stopped. “I’m not getting married,” I replied. He sounded confused. “Sarah said you’re planning her wedding and got us a discount.” Anger surged—she’d used my name to book vendors, claiming my connections for deals. I called florists, bakers, and photographers I knew, and they all confirmed: Sarah had dropped my name, saying I’d handle details. Furious, I confronted her. “It’s no big deal,” she laughed. “You wouldn’t help, so I used your name.” I told her it was wrong to lie and hurt my reputation, but she called me dramatic, even after a heated argument.
Then Liam called, siding with her. “Drop it,” he said. “She’s stressed.” I refused—Sarah had crossed a line. The final blow came when Mom told me Sarah uninvited me from the wedding to avoid “negativity.” That was it. I’d only corrected vendors about my non-involvement, but now I acted. I called every vendor, explaining Sarah’s lies. My years of trust with them paid off—they blacklisted her. Her dream wedding fell apart, replaced by a cheap hotel event with store-bought cake and no pro photos. Family’s split—some say I was harsh, others say she deserved it. Liam’s mad, Mom’s mediating, but I’m at peace, sipping coffee, scrolling her dull wedding posts. Sarah learned: you can’t trample people and expect them to stay quiet. I’d do it again.
